


A Bottle of Amontillado

by Kalilah



Category: POE Edgar Allan - Works, The Cask of Amontillado - Edgar Allan Poe
Genre: Excessive Drinking, Graphic depiction of death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalilah/pseuds/Kalilah
Summary: What happens after the end of "A Cask of Amontillado"? How does Lady Fortunato react to her husband going missing? How does Montresor deal with the guilt of killing a man for revenge?This is a work I created for an English class. The prompt was "Write what happens before or after the story 'The Cask of Amontillado'." I chose to write about what happens after the end, and this is the result. I hope you enjoy! <3





	

In the two weeks since I had rid the world of the fool who had borne insult onto me, carnival season has ended and still no suspicion has fallen upon me. I know of many men who have confessed their crime due to the weight of their own guilt, and as such, I no longer journey into my cellar to prevent being struck by such a weight. I have heard whispers of Lady Fortunato reaching out to find the whereabouts of her missing husband, as he always ventures back to his home at most a week after carnival season has ended; this assuming he has again run off with whatever young performer that has drawn his attention, as fleeting as that attention is. I fear that someone of her acquaintance had seen us leaving the festival that evening, but if so, she would undoubtedly have known by now. In this I hold comfort, as if she did hold such knowledge, it would surely bring nothing but ruin upon me.

As more time passes, I find myself becoming more withdrawn from society and more drawn to drinking. In my attempts to prevent the guilt from reaching me, I have led it straight to my heart. This guilt weighs more heavily with each passing day, as the truth of what I have done sets in. I know now that my actions were not of just retribution, but vengeance. His insult to me was great, but my attempt to avenge the insult was far too cruel for justice to be considered done. I attempted to right a wrong, but have instead created another, greater wrong. For this, I am most contrite. My remorse does nothing, however, to right the wrong which I have perpetuated.

"Master, you have a guest," says one of the servants; breaking me from my thoughts. "It's Lady Fortunato. Shall I lead her to the receiving room?"

Fear shooting through my heart, I reply, "Uh, yes. Of course. Lead her to the receiving room, you said? Do that."

I stumble to the receiving room to place myself before she arrives, taking my bottle of wine. As I slump down into my chair, she comes through the door. She looks as though her husband is not missing at all; as if he is not dead in the cellar beneath her very feet. Her clothes are as opulent as they ever were, but understated enough to not beget disbelief of her grief. Once we exchange the meaningless pleasantries necessary for people for our stations, she cuts to the heart of the matter. 

"Montresor, it has reached my attention that the last that any had seen my husband, you were with him. Were you not?"

I gave no response but to state simply "He was well when last I laid my eyes upon him."

She does not seem to be fooled by this wording, as she becomes even more pleasant than before. 

She asks this instead, "Were you not with him on the third to last night of Carnival? Was he not shouting about wine, with you?"

It is at that moment that my blood froze in my veins. I drink more of my wine, yet the ice in my veins does not thaw with the burn of the alcohol. 

And so, it is with ice in my veins that I answer her, "I was. And he was. But we parted and he was well when last I laid my eyes on him."

Once again, she does not seem to be fooled by this wording. Once again, she becomes more pleasant than before. She does not repeat either of her questions, despite my unsatisfactory answers.

She inquires of me, "Did you not depart from the festival with him? Where then, did you part?"

To lie to her would mean a fate worse than the hell I am already doomed to by my vengeful deliverance of Fortunato from this world.

Therefore, I reply, "We did depart from the festival together. We parted after his curiosity into my wine cellar, and the wine within, had been satisfied. He was well when last I laid my eyes upon him."

Her pleasant demeanor now reaches heights I have never seen prior. It terrifies me to my very core, to know that it is directed at me.

With an eyebrow raised, she says to me, "This I must ask, since you seem to know nothing else. Do you know where he is currently?"

At this, I break. My guilt and fear of her now combine to form a weight that I can no longer bear.

My words gushed forth, like from a dam that has broken, "I must admit; I do know his location. Through my duplicity, I led him to my cellar, the dreadful catacombs beneath our feet, under the guise of showing him a cask of Amontillado. We reached a recess I had previously prepared for this purpose, tearing down the wall and installing a chain to bind him while I committed the deed. I bound him with that chain and proceeded to repair the wall that I had torn down, with him inside. I was confident in my perception that I was righting a wrong done to me, by him. However, I now know the truth. It was not justice; it was revenge!"

And with this, my drunkenness overwhelmed me and I fell into unconsciousness. When I awoke the next morning, I was in my bed, with no memory of the previous afternoon.

In time, I learned to deal with my guilt and my drinking receded to the levels it was prior to my horrible deed. It had been several months before I was fit to return to society, but I did eventually. In the weeks after my return to society, Lady Fortunato became a frequent visitor. Rumors have started that she is aiming to marry me to become Lady Montresor since her husband has apparently run away for good in the eyes of society. There is no base to the rumors, so they do not bother me. Having to face her despite my despicable act has forced me to move past it in ways that I would not have otherwise. She has been a good friend to me and I dread what would happen if she were to somehow find out, though I take solace from the fact that I have concealed the evidence beyond any ability to stumble upon it unwittingly.

"Master, Lady Fortunato has arrived," announces a servant, startling me from my thoughts.

"Show her in." I command. The servant leaves to bring her to the receiving room in which I have been waiting for Lady Fortunato's visit. When she comes into the room, I see that she is dressed in full mourning garb. Her dress is simple without ornamentation, as black as a crow's wing. Her lace veil and gloves are of the same deathly shade. All proper for a Lady mourning her husband.

"Lady Fortunato, may I enquire as to why you are dressed so solemnly?" I question once our usual pleasantries have been exchanged, including the gift to the host.

She takes a deep breath and confesses, "My husband has been proclaimed dead, despite the lack of body and my attempts to persuade them that he will eventually return. Therefore, I must mourn him as tradition demands in our society."

I nod in condolence as I look over the gift. It is a bottle of Amontillado and I cannot help but be struck with the irony of it. I used the promise of Amontillado to lure her husband to his demise, yet she is gifting me with a bottle that is presumably from his collection.

Finished with my inspection, I proclaim, "Perhaps we should break open this bottle and share a drink to mourn your loss of freedom, as you will surely have to marry another, who might not be as unrestricting as your late husband was."

At this, Lady Fortunato seems to be appeased, and takes the now opened bottle from me to pour it into two glasses from the table behind me. Leaving the bottle there, she gives me a glass while retaining a glass for herself.

"To the death of my freedom!" She proclaims as she raises her glass for a toast. I make a sound of agreement before I take a deep drink. The Amontillado is exquisite beyond my prior beliefs, though very bitter. Before long, both Lady Fortunato and I have drained our glasses, though we refrain from having more. We continue talking as we normally do, until my mouth starts to dry and my vision starts to blur. I confusedly try to excuse myself, but instead, Lady Fortunato smiles from beneath her veil and begins to speak.

"I see that it has taken effect. I wasn't sure how long powdered root of Bella Donna would take, since this is my first time poisoning someone. I doubt you remember, considering how deeply intoxicated you were. Several months ago, you confessed to me that you lured my fool of a husband to your cellar with the promise of Amontillado only to chain him to the wall and brick him in, leaving him to die a slow torturous death of suffocation. This I could forgive. I never cared for him anyways, as he preferred wine and servants over me." 

"Whhat aare you tallkiing abouu?" I slurred.

She continues, "I could forgive you for killing him, even go so far as to be thankful, so long as everybody believed that he would eventually return. But now that he has been proclaimed dead, my freedom has been infringed upon. This is something which I cannot forgive. For that offence, I must have revenge against the persons who have wronged me. After you, I shall visit the man who has doomed me to marry again and poison him as well. Finally, after he has met his demise at my hand, I shall use the last of my Bella Donna to depart this world as a free woman, rather than be subservient to another violent fool."

By now, it has gotten hard to swallow and my heart is racing. I can feel the vomit building as I gag repeatedly. She looks on distastefully as the vomit emerges onto my carpet. By the time I have puked the entire contents of my stomach and started dry heaving, the convulsions have begun and I know that death shall not be much longer. My consciousness begins to fade as a final thought crosses my mind, 'In pace requiescat!'

**Author's Note:**

> I know that it isn't particularly good, but it is my first story ever. I am not a writer, despite my love for reading, so I am proud that I managed to make this as good as it is. I hope you enjoyed it!


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